The master of ceremonies returned to the stage; the audience quieted down. “And now, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “the House Of Medochre is thrilled to present this preview of Lord Lyle’s latest vignette! Let the entertainment…begin!” Scattered applause escaped from the crowd.

Noninja noticed a brief flash of light come from the ceiling, just before the main theater lights dimmed. “Did you see that?” he whispered to Miles.

“See what?” Miles mumbled. The actors took the stage; Lyle, and three other young actors, all wore very foppish costumes; the one female actor had taken it to such extremes, she almost looked like a harlequin.

They all collapsed into large, comfortable chairs, and began staring at the ceiling, making indeterminate burbling noises. With dramatic hand gestures, Lyle began pontificating about some unclear social slights his character claimed to have suffered. As he stopped talking, another actor took over, making his own flamboyant speech with similarly pretentious gesturing. As he did that, the actress got up from where she was sitting and, strutting like a beauty queen, made her way to Lyle and collapsed into his lap, consoling him. As it continued, the play revealed itself to be a sitting-room drama featuring a bunch of aristocrats complaining about rich-people problems, with plenty of forced cleverness, out-of-place pontificating, and absolutely no flow.

Noninja looked around uncomfortably. Miles and Lorarona appeared utterly enthralled by the performance; he could see Clancy in the audience, looking around him in confusion. Much of the crowd seemed to be absolutely fascinated, Desma included. Clancy peered closely at her, trying to get her attention; she didn’t notice. “Am I the only one that saw that?” Noninja muttered to himself.

Rikki leaned in. “The flash of light near the ceiling, right? No, I saw it too. And now the audience is, like, hanging on their every word? I knew something sinister was going on! You have to stop it!” His volume grew as he reached his last words; the nearby audience members shushed him firmly. Rikki looked at Noninja, pointed to the ground, and crouched; Noninja followed him. “You need to go upstairs and find the source of that light!” he insisted.

“But won’t I get caught?” Noninja whispered back.

Rikki shook his head. “Everyone’s in here. And I don’t think they notice anything but this awful play.”

Noninja looked around the room; all eyes were on the stage. He nodded to Rikki and crept away.

The hallway was completely deserted; most of the doors were closed. Thinking back to the notes Rikki gave them a few days ago, he recalled the stairs were to the side of the den, the one with all of the paintings. He found the door opposite the old theater, walked into the den, and tried the closed double doors to the left; they opened easily. Moving through and closing them behind him, he found the house’s main staircase and ascended it.

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The second floor seemed equally deserted. Large double doors to his left and right remained closed; the wall in front of him had no doors whatsoever. His brow wrinkled as he pondered the apparent poor use of space. He crept to the left, toward whatever was above the theater, passing two corridors to his left on the way.

He reached the double doors and tried the handle; it was unlocked. He skulked inside and quietly closed them again. His senses were immediately overwhelmed by the stench of stale perfume; he had to stifle a sneeze.

Looking to the location corresponding with the flash of light, he froze. Sitting on the floor in that same spot, staring out the grand curved windows on the opposite wall, was a middle-aged woman wearing an understated cocktail dress; he recognized her from the painting as Lady Medochre.

He crept to within five feet of her; suddenly, she whirled around, indignant. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “How dare you!”

“No need to be alarmed,” Noninja assured her. “I just have a few questions.”

“I’m not a helpless old lady, you know!” she asserted. “I have plenty of ways to defend myself!”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” he soothed. “I just want to know about the flash of light I saw come from the ceiling.”

“What?” she asked, looking surprised. “What light?”

Noninja’s eyes narrowed. “I think you know exactly what light.”

She maintained her haughty glare for a few more seconds, then suddenly her face fell into a sullen mope. “I was just doing what any mother would do to help her child!” she declared. “Lyle simply must succeed in the theater! I won’t have it any other way!”

A few seconds later, she started sobbing quietly, pulled a baton-shaped object from the floor, and showed it to Noninja. “It’s just some low-level compulsion magic. I’m only using it until Lyle can get on his feet.”

“Where did you get the wand?” he asked.

“I don’t know who they are,” she revealed, “but I assume it’s some sort of bard guild.” A few moments passed; she glared at him haughtily and took the wand away, securing it in a nearby drawer.

She held her fierce gaze for a few more moments, then simply turned around and resumed staring out the window. “I think you can let yourself out.”

Noninja glanced one last time around the room, then withdrew to where he had entered, closing the doors behind him. As he did, he heard the light sobbing begin anew.

Re-entering the theater, he noticed nothing had changed for the better. The actress and one of the actors were now dancing clumsily around the stage with each other, as another actor spit out an uneven rhythm with his lips, beatboxing a waltz tune. Lyle remained in his chair, continuing to complain about how terrible it was to be rich and comfortable. Most of the audience remained entranced; it was easy to spot the few that weren’t.

Noninja neared Rikki and leaned in to whisper. “His mom is using some sort of compulsion magic.” He glanced at the stage. “Is it getting any better?”

“What do you think?” Rikki groaned with exasperation. “I almost wish the spell had worked on me.”